Great Superheroes Of Yesteryear

I am sure we are all thoroughly acquainted with classic superheroes who have been lucky enough to go the distance, starting their careers in the Thirties, Forties and Fifties (what comic book nerds call “The Golden Age” and everyone else calls the Thirties, Forties and Fifties,) or the Sixties and Seventies (what everyone now calls “The Silver Age,” mostly to avoid upsetting the nerds ) and making it all the way into the 21st century with both their popularity and their youthful good looks inexplicably intact. You know the ones – Superman, Batman, Captain America, Wonder Woman, Wolverine, Howard The Duck, Streaky The Supercat, and other costumed characters that have become an enduring and indispensable part of popular culture. But what of those other wacky-costumed do-gooders who were out there battling evil back in the old days? What of those heroes whose exploits have been consigned to oblivion, whose glory has long turned to dust, whose great deeds are not celebrated in any current comic book series, video games, Saturday morning cartoons or even on the back of your kid brother’s cereal box? These great figures deserve far more kudos than they receive, so I have decided to take a gander at some of the forgotten luminaries of the genre, thereby finally bestowing upon these outstanding has-beens the respect that has long been denied them.

 

 

bouncing boy bouncing
Bouncing Boy

For once, when the doctors told a couple that they had just become the proud parents of a brand new, bouncing baby boy they weren’t too far off. Thanks to a copious amount of excess body fat, Bouncing Boy, a.k.a Chuck Taine, a.k.a The Dude With The Donuts, has the uncanny ability to… er… bounce all over the place…

Bouncing Boy wasn’t always the wondrous tub of lard that comic book fans worldwide have come to know and love, though he did always have a seriously bad case of sweet tooth. This, in fact, is how he obtained his massive girth and the spectacular powers that come with it. One day, the greedy young fellow was exploring one of the labs at MIT, where his dad worked as a picture frame adjuster, when he came across a box of sugar-encrusted donuts which he proceeded to devour with alarming alacrity, alarming alacrity being, in those days, a popular drink often served with donuts. What young Chuck could not have known was that the donuts had been rendered radioactive by their presence at the Operation Greenhouse nuclear tests in 1951 and had just been delivered to MIT so that Noam Chomsky could interview them for his then-latest book on how the U.S is screwing everything up. Immediately after stuffing the whistle-blowing donuts into his face, young Chuck suddenly tripled in size and found that he now had the ability to bounce all over the place like some manic, morbidly obese beach ball.

Guilt ridden at having eaten several of Chomsky’s sources, Chuck acquired a colorful costume at “Fat Superheroes R Us,” assumed the identity of Bouncing Boy and joined the Legion of Superheroes in order to battle evil in all its guises. Though his battle repertoire was somewhat limited, consisting, as it did, mostly of repeatedly bouncing up and down on a villain’s head, Chuck had a pretty successful career as a crime fighter and was once even voted “Most Annoying Fat Bastard” by the International Association of Evil-Doing Dudes. Chuck’s most impressive career moment came during a battle with the Fatal Five when, all by himself, he took down the Emerald Empress by bouncing all around her, forcing her to spin so fast in an attempt to catch him that she drilled herself into the ground and passed out from a dizziness-induced concussion. After almost two decades of moderately impressive super-heroing, Chuck was told by doctors that all that bouncing was jarring his brain and putting him at risk of ending up with an intellect roughly resembling that of a reality TV star. Being no fool, Chuck retired and opened a soccer coaching academy, figuring that he would be able to save a great deal of money by serving as both coach and ball.

 

 

matter eater lad eating matterMatter Eater Lad

Endowed with an appetite even more rapacious than that of Bouncing Boy, but also possessing an absurdly fast metabolism that helped him to avoid a similarly freakish rotundness, was one Tenzil Kem, a.k.a Forsythe Pendleton Jones The Third a.k.a Matter Eater Lad.

Tenzil’s primary, and pretty much only, super-power, is being able to eat anything that he finds lying around – rocks, metal objects, furniture, nothing can withstand the might of his pearly whites. And how did our man end up with such amazing abilities? Well, this time round, not wanting to go to the trouble of coming up with a convoluted and improbable origin story, the writers simply made him a native of the planet Bismoll, where everyone can – and does – eat everything. Given that indigestion is almost certainly rampant amongst its inhabitants, one could very well have expected that the planet would instead have been named Pepto Bismoll…

Since cannibalism is pretty frowned upon in the superhero community, Matter Eater Lad was largely useless in a fight, and for the most part had to limit himself to standing on the sidelines and occasionally jumping up and down while shouting out encouraging lines such as “Yay, team!” and “Punch him in the nards!” M.E.L does, however, distinguish himself in the 1954 alternate reality limited series “Matter Eater Lad Eats New Jersey,” in which he saves Batman from being drowned in a huge vat of lobster bisque by eating not only the bisque, but also the vat and most of Batman’s cape. Unfortunately, the bisque had been laced with a variant of Joker venom that causes not only giggling insanity but also incurable mendaciousness and as a result M.E.L ate not only New Jersey but also part of Philadelphia and then stood around smirking and telling reporters “Don’t look at me! I didn’t do it!” As a result of this gluttony-fueled scandal and his newfound talents, M.E.L retired from the superheroeing game and became a state senator.

 

 

blue beetleThe Blue Beetle

Starting his superhero career as The Pink Ladybug, Dan Garrett soon found that being laughed at by supervillains was not only deeply discouraging but also made it hard to get dates, so he rather quickly changed his nom de guerre to the far more macho and intimidating Blue Beetle. Dan wore a bullet proof costume made of cellulose and cow spit and got his super strength from taking a thing called vitamin 2X, which was a rather dubious concoction cooked up for him by the neighborhood drug dealer, a mysterious figure known only as Dr. Franz. This association between a superhero and a dope-slinging felon made the Blue Beetle one of the more morally ambiguous characters of the Golden Age and it has often been speculated that his drug dealing friend was the inspiration for Walter White – the two men are not only scientific geniuses and drug dealers but also share an affinity for killing people with ricin, ricin being how Dr. Franz got rid of B.B’s annoying kid sister after she “accidentally” decapitated his pet iguana. Dr. Franz also provided Beetle with a variety of gadgets that allowed him to fly, see through walls, phone his parents collect without their permission, and take a dump without having to remove his pants.

Of all the luminaries so far mentioned, Beetle had the longest and most successful career, one which reached its zenith in 1957 when he saved the planet from an invasion by an alien race of lizard men every member of which looked like then-Vice President Richard Nixon. He also famously stopped Manhattan from sinking into the sea during the infamous Weight Watchers convention of 1953 by attaching helium balloons to all the attendants. For this service to the public he was given the key to the city and also a free membership to Jenny Craig, who was delighted to see the competition’s reputation besmirched. Among lesser achievements, Beetle also took down dozens of criminal gangs, won a poker game against Superman, and instituted Take Our Daughters To Work Day.

The Blue Beetle retired in 1959, after a final showdown with his archenemy The Crimson Cockroach. During this legendary battle Beetle finished off the Cockroach by drenching him in radioactive Brylcreem. Crimson Cockroach, who was under the impression that he had all the powers and abilities of a cockroach but was in fact just a weird guy in a silly costume, at first laughed at B.B’s unusual tactic but changed his mind after noticing that his face had fallen off. Having finally rid the world of his great nemesis, and having – thanks to a live tuna being dropped on his head during the apocalyptic battle – suffered a concussion that for several years left him unable to tell butter from margarine, Beetle retired from the hero business to become the popular host of TV’s “Late Night with Dan Garrett,” a variety and chat show these days mostly remembered for Richard Pryor’s first televised use of the word “boner.”

 

 

red bee croppedThe Red Bee

Similar to the Blue Beetle but less likely to end up in the Betty Ford Centre yet more likely to take part in a Pride Parade was the Red Bee, a.k.a Rick Raleigh. A precursor to the current wave of mutant superheroes, the Red Bee had only one superpower, namely the huge, retractable stinger that grew out of the base of his spine. This unusual weapon caused great pain in his opponents, who then had to run off to find some lemon juice to rub into the wound. For those times when hitting the opponent with his ass was impractical, Red Bee also carried a sort of ray gun thing. Another notable aspect of Red Bee was the fact that he had a sidekick. Batman had Robin, Captain America had Bucky, and Red Bee had a bee – an actual bee – called Michael. Michael lived in a chamber in Red Bee’s belt buckle and was deft with a rocket launcher which he frequently used to blow his surprised victims to kingdom come.

Red Bee spent a lot of time fighting Nazis, gangsters, and corrupt mailmen, and had quite a distinguished career that peaked when he successfully stopped an invasion of the surface world by the giant termites who lived somewhere below Cleveland. Unfortunately, the foiling of this invasion required various acts of violence towards numerous giant insects and this led to the involvement of both the Humane Society and PETA, and soon the Red Bee was being charged not only with beating up and ray-gun-zapping hundreds of imperialistic termites but also with animal neglect over the conditions under which he housed Michael The Bee. Michael himself was initially charged with blowing up dozens of the would-be invaders but charges were eventually dropped as he was a minor at the time of the crime. Although the authorities later dropped the charges against him, Red Bee’s feelings were severely hurt and he decided to call it a day as far as the whole hero thing went. Having once been an assistant DA in his civilian life, he opened up his own law firm and soon turned Rick Raleigh and Associates into Superior City’s most successful legal outfit. During these years, Rick’s most famous case was one in which he successfully defended movie star Doris Day against charges of fondling a rabbit in public.

 

 

 

infectious lassInfectious Lass

Infectious Lass, a.k.a Drura Sehpt, hails from a secret planet by the name of Somahtur, every inhabitant of which is just crawling with disease-causing bacteria and viruses and such. Ironically enough, the Somahturians themselves remain unaffected by the germs they carry, despite being able to infect everyone else with all sorts of weird diseases from their corner of the universe – rather like a whole planet full of Typhoid Marys. While everyone else on her planet had the decency to stay home lest they infect the rest of the cosmos with God-knows-what, Drura was an adherent of the motto “With great power comes great irresponsibility” so she took off to explore the universe. After making her way to earth, Drura ended up being imprisoned by the CDC after accidentally giving the head of The United Planets a bad case of Neptunian Herpes. During this incarceration she was able to attain better control over her powers and after promising to infect only the bad people she was released and proceeded to apply for membership in the Legion of Superheroes. After impressing everyone by giving Star Boy and Lightning Lad a disease that made them think they were Jehovah’s Witnesses, she was invited to join, the idea being that even the most heavy duty villain would be rendered relatively harmless if he was too busy knocking on people’s doors early in the morning. Due to the Legion’s policy of making everyone take on a lame-sounding name ending with a reference to their gender, Drura had to settle for the name Infectious Lass, though she herself was partial to Virulent Vera or Contagious Catherine. Strangely enough, when Saturn Girl suggested she adopt the soubriquet Diseased Drura she became angry and gave S.G a virus that made her unable to brush her teeth for several days.

Despite some early misgivings, the Legion had no cause to regret their choice and Infectious Lass proved to be quite an asset in battle. During the epic Legion arc “Darkseid Frightens the 30th Century” Infectious Lass saved the universe by giving Darkseid the Hermaphroditus Pox, a disease which caused him to turn into Granny Goodness. Freaked out at having turned into his own hench-wench, Darkseid had a nervous breakdown during which the Legion was able to trap him in a villain-proof rocket and send him hurtling back to Apokolips. Infectious Lass also brought down loony atheist alien Composite Man by giving him a disease that turned him into a Durlan priest. Disgusted at having become his own worst enemy, Composite Man committed suicide by inhaling next to a used car salesman.

Ironically, despite her danger filled career as a superhero, Infectious Lass met the most prosaic of demises – at the age of 28 she tragically perished after accidentally giving herself a case of Stronkonian Trichinosis, a disease which turns the sufferer into a bowl of lukewarm oatmeal.

 

 

whizzerThe Whizzer

But perhaps the greatest superhero of yesteryear was the Whizzer. Gifted with the power to urinate on anything that stood in his way, the Whizzer terrorized and grossed out super villains by using the simple modus operandi of urinating on them and then whacking them over the head while they were busy yelling things like “You sick bastard!” This head-whacking was usually carried out with a bag full of door knobs or, when he had forgotten the bag of door knobs at home, any nearby fire hydrant.

Unlike most superheroes, the Whizzer, whose secret identity was that of door knob salesman I.P Freely, was very much a self made man in that he gained his superpowers deliberately. An amateur scientist and a superhero wannabe, Freely injected himself with a formula that was supposed to give him the powers and proportional strength of a dog but instead just gave him an uncontrollable urge to urinate all over the place. Undeterred and determined to make the best of a bad situation, Freely donned a suitably yellow costume and went ahead with his plan to become the nemesis of all those who would do evil – especially the ones who hate being urinated on. Whizzer’s first great success was the defeat of one of Batman’s most dangerous foes – Clayface. During the crossover event “Batman Meets I.P Freely,” Whizzer found himself in Gotham for a door-knob salesmen’s convention. While he was looking around for a good deli, Whizzer stumbled upon Batman battling Clayface, who was at the time trying to steal a gumball machine. Seeing that Clayface had the upper hand in the battle, Whizzer leapt to the rescue by sneaking up on the villain and bashing him with the bag of knobs, thereby knocking him into a nearby basement. Whizzer then locked the basement door and whizzed through the keyhole, quickly filling the basement and turning Clayface into a large pool of yellowy-browny muck. After Batman had recovered from the grossness of it all, he recommended that Whizzer be given the keys to the city and this was done, but only after Whizzer promised not to urinate on the Mayor.

Whizzer did not limit his crime-fighting to American criminals, though, and during the Second World War he was a member of famed super group The Invaders. Whizzer was recruited into the group by the Sub-Mariner, who felt that the other members would perceive him as less of a weirdo if Whizzer was on board. Whizzer’s tenure with the Invaders was a hugely successful one during which he had the opportunity to urinate on not only Adolf Hitler and hundreds of German soldiers, but also on the Red Skull. This latter occasion led to the defeat of the infamous Nazi, who, being a man of style, was very distressed when Whizzer whizzed on his fancy leather pants. While Red Skull was distracted frantically wiping his pants with a damp cloth, Captain America choked him unconscious with a string of Knackwurst which he had brought along for the purpose. Whizzer’s time with the Invaders wasn’t all peaches and cream, though. In one incident, he accidentally put out the original Human Torch while trying to urinate on Master Man’s head. This unfortunate event was photographed by famed war reporter Joe Rosenthal and later published on the front cover of Time and shown in all the newsreels. As a result, everyone was greatly amused except for the Torch, who never forgave Whizzer and who, more than a decade later, refused to invite him to his wedding to former nemesis Carbon Dioxide Girl.

Returning to the States after V-Day, Whizzer resumed his more ordinary crime-fighting activities and was successful in taking down many criminal gangs as well as Gorilla Grodd who, after mistaking him for The Flash, had wandered into the wrong company’s books. In 1959, after almost two decades as a superhero, Whizzer decided to retire from the crime-fighting game. The impetus for this decision was the same errant aim that had gotten him in trouble with the Human Torch. This time, while attending a public function earlier that year, Whizzer accidentally urinated on Dwight D. Eisenhower’s head after mistaking the president’s toupee for his arch nemesis Hamster Man. This incident, combined with the realization that, thanks to hundreds of public urination charges, he had racked up a rap sheet longer than that of most of his opponents, led Whizzer to leave the super-heroing field and go into the bedpan manufacturing business.

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Ask Ambrose – “Help! My cat’s a bastard!”

Cat Has Bad Hygiene Habits

Dear Ambrose,

I was horrified the other day to find out that my cat has been using my toothbrush to clean his own teeth. My girlfriend tells me that she has known about this for weeks but that she has been afraid to speak up because if I tell the cat to not use my toothbrush he might resort to using hers! I have nothing against cats but am uncomfortable with letting one use my toothbrush. I know cats can be very sensitive animals so I am afraid to bring up the matter lest he take offence or think that I am some sort of bigot. I am at a loss as to what to do. Please help.

Cats Gross Me Out

San Fernando Valley, California

cat uses my toothbrush
Dear Cats Gross Me Out,

Luckily the answer to your problem is an easy one – you must let your cat keep your current toothbrush and simply buy yourself a new one (a new toothbrush, not a new cat.) This new toothbrush must be hidden from sight, just in case your cat’s behavior is some kind of bizarre territorial thing rather than an innocent mistake. A good place to hide your new brush would be inside a ceramic toilet tank as most cats have difficulty lifting the heavy lid – if you do not have a ceramic tank you must go out and buy one. In the unlikely event that your cat somehow finds your new brush you may want to switch to an electric toothbrush – when your cat turns it on and it starts making that weird whirring noise he will probably run out of the bathroom all the way into another state, which will make it very difficult for him to access your bathroom.

Hoping I have been of help,

Ambrose

 

Cat’s Eating Habits Annoy Owner

 

Dear Ambrose,

My cat eats all the pizza. When I have friends over and we order pizza he lurks under the couch until we open the box, then jumps out and very quickly eats all the pizza while giving us all blank looks. He then nonchalantly curls up in the box and goes to sleep as if pretending that nothing has happened. He does this not only when my friends and I are home but also when I am at work and he has the house all to himself. He has gone so far as to order in and then charge it to my credit card, though to his credit he usually pays for the pizza boy’s tip from his own allowance. What can I do about my pizza-loving puss?

Missing My Pizza,

Detroit, Michigan

cat sleeping pizza box
Dear Missing My Pizza,

Since part of your cat’s strategy is to hide under the couch, the best solution to  your problem is to stay away from said furniture. Try eating the pizza in the kitchen, but only after having checked under the couch to make sure the cat is there rather than under the kitchen table. By the time the cat figures out what is going on it will be too late. He will no doubt be chagrined but you can mollify him by dipping the leftover crusts in ketchup and offering them to him. If the cat catches on and this tactic stops being effective you and your friends may have to take more extreme measures by eating your pizza while floating on a raft made from large air mattresses placed in the middle of your swimming pool. As everyone knows, cats hate water and not even pizza will make one of them take a dunking. If you do not have a pool you can still use this strategy by substituting a bathtub for the swimming pool, though this may get a bit crowded depending on how many friends you have and how big your bathtub is.

Hoping I have been of help,

Ambrose

 

Caterwauling Cat Causes Consternation

Dear Ambrose,

Recently my cat Sisley has developed an unpleasant habit of sneaking into the bathroom late at night, climbing up onto the toilet as if it were some sort of stage and then singing very loudly. This would be problematic even if he had a good voice but he is almost tone deaf and his chiaroscuro has too much scuro and not enough chiaro. In the picture I have enclosed he is performing Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way” at around 3am and at 143 decibels, which according to the Encyclopedia Britannica is at the same level of noise as artillery fire. Although his version is slightly better than the original it is still very irritating and nobody in the building could get any sleep that night. Please help.

Owner of Gaga Cat

Boston, Massachusetts

 

toilet cat singing at 3am
Dear Owner of Gaga Cat,

I fear there is no effective way to make a singing cat shut up, not without doing the kind of thing that will end up getting you a featured role on one of those Animal Planet shows about The Humane Society. The news is not all bad, though, as you can always try to change your cat’s musical tastes. For example, you could start playing some Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin around your house. This may make your cat more likely to emulate some of these classic crooners rather than the more sleep-depriving music he is currently into, and I’m sure we can all agree that a cat singing “Sway” or “The Summer Wind” at 3am is preferable by far to him yelling about a “Bad Romance” or his “disco stick.” Whatever you do, do not allow your cat to listen to death metal, as a cat singing songs such as “At Midnight I Will Eat Your Entrails” is likely to give one of your elderly neighbors a heart attack.

Hoping I have been of help,

Ambrose

 

Cat Shows Troubling Antisocial Tendencies

Dear Ambrose,

My cat Felix has recently been assassinating the neighbors. It started a few weeks ago when he began chasing after Mormons with a baseball bat, then he progressed to throwing rocks at the postman, and now things have deteriorated to the point where every day at around 6 pm he sits at the window with his automatic rifle, cackling in an evil manner and shooting down the neighbors as they come home from work. Not only is his unexpected behavior having a negative impact on my social standing in the community but every time he kills someone I am the one who has to clean up the blood off the concrete and my knees are starting to get chafed. Please help.

Bugged By Bastard Cat

Oklahoma

kitten with gun
Dear Bugged By Bastard Cat,

I fear the behaviors you describe indicate that your cat has gone beyond the realm of mere bastardry into that of actual psychopathy. If you do not get him some help soon, Felix may turn out to the world’s most prolific cat serial killer. This could have a serious impact not only on Felix’s chances of not being gassed by the authorities but could also have a seriously detrimental effect on your own life – nobody wants to be known as the guy who owned the feline world’s answer to Charles Whitman. I see several courses of action that may be able to help you. The most obvious is to sit him down and tell him in a stern voice, “Killing people is bad! Bad!” Try this several times a week for about a month and see if the killing stops. If it does not it may be advisable to try putting some valium or Thorazine in his daily bowl of milk. Another possible course of action is to redirect your kitty’s murderous impulses back towards a cat’s natural prey, namely mice and birds. This is best done gradually by persuading some of the local birds to dress up as office workers and then tricking your cat into thinking they are humans – this can be achieved by getting the birds to stand around inanely blabbing into their mobile phones or staring blankly at their email inboxes. Once Felix has become accustomed to shooting the faux-human birds his natural instincts should kick in and he should start to kill regular, non-fancy-dress-type feathered critters.  If none of these methods work, you may need to have him lobotomized, something which can be achieved with the aid of chloroform and an electric drill. If you do not have chloroform and an electric drill you can just sit him down in front of a marathon screening of all eight seasons of “Keeping Up With The Kardashians.” I realize this last measure may seem a little extreme, but it’s either your cat’s brain or your standing in the community — it’s up to you.

Hoping I have been of help,

Ambrose

How To Survive A Zombie Apocalypse

We all know from things like The Walking Dead that the world being taken over by zombies is just a matter of time, but what precisely can you do to ensure that you and your loved ones will make it through such an event? Having spent much time researching the subject of zombies and their related apocalypses, I have learned quite a few things which should, when the day comes, help my readers to stay out of some undead bastard’s gut…

The first thing to remember is that deep down zombies are just like everyone else – they are people like you and me, except that they smell even worse. Other than that, they are regular folks – they have dreams, hopes and ambitions just like the rest of humanity. The main difference lies in the fact that a zombie’s primary ambition is to feast on your flesh without even going to the trouble of cooking and garnishing it. For this reason, it is best not to date, marry, or otherwise hang out with a zombie – if a cool-looking zombie says to you, “Hey, dude, come on over to my pad and let’s chillax for a while,” do not accept the invitation as this line is merely a devious ploy often used by predators such as zombies and hipsters. But what do you do when the zombies don’t see things your way and insist on initiating some sort of hunger-driven contact? In other words, how do you keep yourself from being eaten by one of these shambling piles of rotting meat?

The first tactic in avoiding the undead is to run, preferably in a direction away from the zombies. As zombies are notoriously slow this tactic works well for most people especially if, before running for it, you point off to the zombie’s side and yell excitedly “Hey, isn’t that a big fat guy over there?” Being as slow of brain as they are of limb, the zombies will turn in the direction of the non-existent fat man, giving you an extra head start. This tactic works well for most, but is of limited use to such groups as the elderly, dwarves, and the morbidly obese. These people would be better off riding cars or even golf carts in such situations. If you are prepping for a zombie apocalypse but do not have a car, golf carts can be purchased quite cheaply on outlets such as eBay and can easily be stored in the living room.

(Speaking of dwarves, these little people are always handy in such situations as they can easily be thrown to the zombies as a distraction. While the zombies are busy with their bite-sized snack, you can make your getaway. For this reason, no zombie prepper’s bug out kit is truly complete without at least one dwarf. Dwarves can be purchased from army surplus stores, which is where would-be recruits are sent when they are too short to make it into the army.)

But back to transport. As vital as these things are, don’t let the possession of a car or golf cart lull you into a dangerously false sense of security – surprising as it seems, a not uncommon element of a zombie apocalypse is that a significant number of people find themselves carjacked by zombies. Being both slow and lazy, the average zombie would rather ride than walk, so if you see one of them heading for your car door, trust me, they ain’t about to ask if they can wash your windshield. Soon as they shuffle your way, you peel that sucker out of there. And if for some reason you can’t get the car moving, for example you may be stuck behind the kind of massive pile-up that often occurs in these scenarios, just get out and run – you have only one life, but you can always steal another car later.

If you somehow find yourself deprived of your vehicle, have no more dwarves to throw, and are too lazy to run, there are other tactics you can try. You can, for example, stand very still and hope that the zombies will mistake you for a lamppost or a trash can. This tactic has been known to work for the more drab amongst us, but is not recommended for those fond of wearing bright colors as they may be mistaken for candy canes or unusually large gummy bears. A more certain tactic, but one useful only when threatened by the brain-eating subspecies of zombie, is to wear a t-shirt reading “I Heart Fox News.” As it is well known that Fox viewers have no brains, the brain-eating variety of zombie will leave you alone and go looking for some nerd instead. If your particular region is plagued by the kind of zombie that regards any part of the human body the way Oprah regards a bear claw, then you may want to try dressing up like a carrot. As these zombies are strictly meat eaters they will be inclined to avoid you. If you are accosted by an especially stupid zombie – for example, one wearing a Fox News t-shirt – you could try to remind them of their mistake by saying in a loud and distinct voice, “Me carrot! You carnivore! Savvy?”

But what if, despite your best efforts, you can’t escape and are forced into a confrontation with a rancid, moldering flesh-muncher? This is where weapons come in handy. As everyone knows, the best way to stop a zombie is to blow its head off. This is best done with a shotgun as its spread will allow even your severely myopic grandmother to hit the target. Other types of guns such as Glocks, M16s and rocket launchers will also do a good job, but regardless of which type of gun you use, you must always check first to see if the gun is loaded – going into a zombie fight with an unloaded gun can have undesirable consequences. But what if you are stuck without a gun, what can you do then? The best course of action is to steal yourself some sticks of dynamite – unattended construction sites are always a good bet. When a zombie comes after you, light the fuse, shove the stick of dynamite into the zombie’s mouth, then run away before the zombie’s head explodes. As the debris from such an explosion can fall over quite a wide area it may be a good idea to open up an umbrella just before you start running.

It logically follows that if blowing a moaning shambler’s head off will stop him in his tracks, so will destroying the brain by smashing in the skull or separating the head from the body. For the first, baseball bats are quite adequate but hockey sticks do a much better job –  being blade-shaped objects they will cleave right into that zombie noggin like it was an over-ripe watermelon on a hot summer’s day. For the second, you will have to resort to something like a meat cleaver or, best of all, a samurai sword. If using the latter, you must not give in to the temptation to go into a lot of stylized, chop-socky type moves to impress the zombie before you send his head spinning through the air, as many zombies will find such displays culturally insensitive and may take offence.

All this talk of cleavings brings me to the second (or is it the third?) best way to stop a zombie – namely dismemberment. If a zombie is in several pieces, it will pose little threat as all it will be able to do is make its various body parts jump around comically. For the dismembering of a walker a medium-sized, and therefore portable, chainsaw is best, though if the zombie is in a very advanced state of decomposition even a weed whacker will do. As you can imagine, this is a rather messy way of getting things done and a raincoat and a pair of goggles are strongly recommended.

But as is usually the case, the best way to deal with an apocalypse is to avoid it in the first place. The obvious way to do this in the case of a zombie apocalypse is to minimize the number of dead people in the ground. The best method here is to make sure everyone makes it clear to their friends and relatives that when they finally kick the bucket they are to be cremated instead of buried – no matter how hell-bent a pile of ashes may be on eating you alive, it will pose little risk and can easily be dispatched using a common, everyday vacuum cleaner. As for those who have a religious objection to being incinerated, all I can say is that they must eat well, brush regularly, and try very, very hard to not die. I realize this means they won’t be going to an eternal paradise any time soon, but we all have to make sacrifices for the common good. Not only that, but if you turn up at the pearly gates with your neighbor’s giblets handing out of your mouth, you ain’t gettin’ in – trust me.

 

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